


be something greater, go make a legacy

by fensandmarshes



Series: team red warriors au, apparently [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats, Book Series: Power of Three, Catholic Matt Murdock, Gen, Mentors, POV Peter Parker, ThunderClan (Warriors), WindClan (Warriors), but like, starclan is god?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fensandmarshes/pseuds/fensandmarshes
Summary: “I,” Redthorn says, grinding his teeth. “Need some help.”“And you come to me?” the scarred cat sniffs. “I’m not a leader anymore, Red. You know that. What do you want?”or: Spiderpaw meets the famed ex-ShadowClan leader Maplestar, who is not exactly as regal as expected
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson
Series: team red warriors au, apparently [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685239
Comments: 22
Kudos: 65





	be something greater, go make a legacy

**Author's Note:**

> can't fucking beliieve i'm writing more of this and yet here we are  
> should be noted that "fuck" and the like are loner/rogue swears wade picked up from other cats! poor spiderpaw has no clue lol  
> title from high hopes by brendon urie! at the disco u g h

“Let’s go,” Redthorn says the moment Spiderpaw is within earshot of him. It’s the second half-moon of leaf-fall, and Spiderpaw closes his eyes to take in what might be the last of the warm breeze before the moors plunge into leaf-bare. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“That sounds like a horrible idea,” Spiderpaw says honestly, even as he follows Redthorn along the WindClan/ThunderClan border. This section of the border is all wooded, and he darts uncomfortable glances up at the shadowy canopy every so often. “Where are we going?”

“Not far beyond the edge of the territories,” Redthorn responds, lashing his tail. “Stop asking questions. It’ll make sense when we get there.”

“You never tell me anything,” Spiderpaw grumbles, but does as he’s told. Redthorn, true to his words, leads the two of them along the border, seemingly tireless even as Spiderpaw falters. The moon hangs in the sky above them, an even half as though cut in two by a celestial claw; it’s moonhigh by the time they reach the end of ThunderClan territory, and not long after when they come to the end of WindClan. The moor grasses sing in the breeze. Redthorn casts a disapproving glance around, tilting his head in the way he does when looking for someone, and clears his throat pointedly in the direction of a heather tussock not far from where Spiderpaw crouches.

The heather rustles. “The fuck do you want, Red?” comes a voice. “And why do you have a kit with you?”

“I’m an apprentice, actually,” Spiderpaw mumbles. The cat’s growl is very real, and it’s probably a rogue judging from the strange slang he’s been told they pick up from Twolegs. Spiderpaw tenses, ready to dash away if he has to, but a hulking shape emerges from the heather and he freezes in place.

The cat is, for want of tact, hideous. Hairless patches stretch over his pelt, scarred in some places and too smooth in others; he ignores Spiderpaw completely and paces past him towards Redthorn before dropping to the ground and letting his legs sprawl out in front of him. “Hey, Red,” he says coolly. 

Spiderpaw shivers, and ducks further back into the grass.

“I,” Redthorn says, grinding his teeth. “Need some help.”

“And you come to me?” the scarred cat sniffs. “I’m not a leader anymore, Red. You know that. What do you want?”

Spiderpaw makes the connection between the burn scars and  _ not a leader any more _ , and comes to the uncomfortable realisation that he is in  _ way over his head  _ here. “You’re Maplestar,” he breathes. “Redthorn, how do you know  _ Maplestar _ ? Why are we - what’s going on?”

The scarred cat watches him with a strange mix of pity and amusement. “Maplestar died,” he growls, and Spiderpaw jumps at the startling tone, so at odds with his casual sprawl and the lazy swish of his tail. “Why’d you bring me a kit, Red?”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” Redthorn sniffs, tail wrapped primly around his paws. “And yet here we are.”

“That’s not an  _ answer,  _ dung-for-brains.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Oh did  _ StarClan  _ tell you so?” Maplestar hisses, suddenly vehement. Redthorn answers by baring his teeth in a snarl.

Spiderpaw’s Sense hits the back of his neck in a flurry of anxiety. He flattens his ears. “ _ Stop  _ it,” he says as authoritatively as he can manage (which is not very given he’s speaking to his illicit second mentor and a legendary ex-Clan leader, but he’s doing his best), “things are … I mean, you shouldn’t fight, who knows what would happen if one of you got injured out here?”

Redthorn whips his head around to glare at Spiderpaw - at least that’s what Spiderpaw guesses, since his eyes are hidden in the shadow of the bracken. “Was that your … Sense?” he guesses. 

“It’s not … a  _ thing _ ,” Spiderpaw hisses, uncomfortable. “Just a weird reaction. Could you please stop arguing?”

“What’s your problem, kit?” Maplestar grumbles, clambering to his paws. 

Spiderpaw, braver than he feels, juts his chin out. “I’m not a kit.”

“‘Paw. Whatever. Red, this is a  _ WindClan  _ apprentice,” Maplestar accuses, turning back to Redthorn. “There’s so many layers of fox dung here I don’t even know where to  _ start _ . What are you  _ doing? _ ”

“... Mentoring an apprentice?”

“ _ No. _ ”

“I have acquired a willing apprentice,” Redthorn says glibly. “Now I shall teach him. What is the problem here, Deadheart?”

Spiderpaw does not speak up at ‘Deadheart’ because he is, although this may come as a shock to some, not always an idiot. His Sense chirrups in the tip of his tail - strange as it may seem, Redthorn addressed this scarred cat correctly. So his name must be Deadheart now. Instead, he paces backwards a few steps and waits for his surrogate mentor to address him.

“Red. We both know you’re a fucking mouse-brain,” Deadheart purrs, too sweetly, “but this -”

“Is my decision to make, and his,” Redthorn cuts in. 

“Then why did you bring him to  _ me _ , thorn-head?”

“Maybe as a warning,” Redthorn retorts. “Hey, kit, this is what  _ not  _ to do -”

“No, I got it, I know why,” Deadheart interrupts. “It’s ‘cause you  _ love  _ me, Red. Is that it?” He paces closer to Redthorn, a syrupy purr rippling in his chest; Spiderpaw represses an ‘ewww’ and screws up his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the warriors (and Spiderpaw cannot stress this enough)  _ flirting _ . “Can’t stay away?”

“I stayed away from you,” Redthorn hisses, standing impassive, “for moons because I felt like it. It’s not difficult. I want you to help me train the kit, okay?”

Deadheart narrows his eyes. “ _ Wait. _ ”

Redthorn’s jaw is set as he gazes straight ahead, unblinking and unmoving. 

“I know what this is about,” Deadthorn gripes. “That fucking  _ prophecy - _ ”

“Of course it’s not,” Redthorn says unconvincingly. Spiderpaw pricks his ears - what prophecy? “This is just. A random WindClan apprentice that I have stolen from his Clan.”

“You’re convinced this …  _ beetle-sized kit _ is part of your fucking prophecy?”

“Stop it with the loner swears,” Redthorn commands. “You mentioned the prophecy, Deadheart, not me.”

Spiderpaw raises his tail tentatively. “I’m not part of any pr -”

“Shut up, kit,” Redthorn snaps. “Yes you are. Listen, Deadheart, I  _ know  _ you don’t -”

“- want to be part of your StarClan-adoring club,  _ Redthorn? _ ” The scarred cat places a sneering emphasis on the name, as if he’s referencing a joke Spiderpaw isn’t privy to. “That’s your  _ secret hero _ name, huh? I thought the warrior code was more important than anything else!”

“Except StarClan,” Redthorn mutters bitterly. “Deadheart. Will you train Spiderpaw with me or not?”

“You know what?” Deadheart laughs, acerbic. “Fucking fine. But the moment you mention your  _ power of three  _ schtick again, I’m bailing.”

“Coward,” Redthorn sniffs, but Deadheart doesn’t rise to it. “Fine. Let’s start over - Spiderpaw, this is Deadheart! He used to be Maplestar but now he’s a mouse-heart -”

“- a  _ conscientious objector  _ to StarClan’s dominion -”

“- who changed his name and ran away to become a rogue. Deadheart,” Redthorn continues, heedless of the other cat’s interruption, “this is Spiderpaw. He is a WindClan apprentice with a piece of shit for a mentor -”

“I thought you were my mentor, Redthorn?” Spiderpaw inquires, as innocently as he can. 

“- I hate you both,” Redthorn declares. “I give up. I am surrounded by traitorous backstabbers. I’m going back to ThunderClan.”

He turns in a righteous flounce and heads back towards the edge of ThunderClan territory, and Spiderpaw traipses wearily after him. “Have fun,” Deadheart calls after them, condescending. Redthorn whips back around, teeth bared, and Spiderpaw has to yank his tail back in the direction they’re heading to stop him from lurching towards the rogue with claws unsheathed.

“So,” Spiderpaw says merrily as they pad back to their respective sides of the scent line. “This was fun and not awkward at all!”

Redthorn doesn’t laugh, but he huffs a little and ducks his head. “Sure. I’m sorry, he’s just …” 

“Like that,” Spiderpaw supplies helpfully. “It’s okay! So what’s all this about a ‘prophecy’?”

“None of your business,” Redthorn snaps, all claws and bristling pelt in an instant, and bounds away before Spiderpaw can open his mouth to argue.

**Author's Note:**

> i have so much free time in quarantine and THIS is what i choose to do with it?


End file.
